holy duties have absorbed me so till this
day, that I could not come even to you. It soothed me, however, to
learn, in answer to my daily inquiries, that Ernest was here. For
my part," he added with a faint smile, "I have had duties as well as
honours devolved on me. I am left guardian to an heiress, and betrothed
to a child."

"How do you mean?"

"Why, my poor uncle was so fondly attached to his wife's daughter, that
he has left her the bulk of his property: a very small estate--not L2000
a year--goes with the title (a new title, too, which requires twice as
much to carry it off and make its pinchbeck pass for gold). In order,
however, to serve a double purpose, secure to his _protegee_ his own
beloved peerage, and atone to his nephew for the loss of wealth--he has
left it a last request, that I should marry the young lady over whom I
am appointed guardian, when she is eighteen--alas! I shall then be at
the other side of forty! If she does not take to so mature a bridegroom,
she loses thirty--only thirty of the L200,000 settled upon her, which
goes to me as a sugar-plum after the nauseous draught of the young
lady's 'No.' Now, you know all. His widow, really an exemplary young
woman, has a jointure of L1500 a year, and the villa. It is not much,
but she is contented."

The lightness of the new peer's tone revolted Maltravers, and he
turned impatiently away. But Lord Vargrave, resolving not to suffer the
conversation to glide back to sorrowful subjects, which he always hated,
turned round to Ernest, and said, "Well, my dear Ernest, I see by the
papers that you are to have N------'s late appointment--it is a very
rising office. I congratulate you."

"I have refused," said Maltravers, drily.

"Bless me!--indeed!--why?"

Ernest bit his lip, and frowned; but his glance wandering unconsciously
at Florence, Lumley thought he detected the true reply to his question,
and became mute.

The conversation was afterwards embarrassed and broken up; Lumley went
away as soon as he could, and Lady Florence that night had a severe
fit, and could not leave her bed the next day. That confinement she
had struggled against to the last; and now, day by day, it grew more
frequent and inevitable. The steps of Death became accelerated. And Lord
Saxingham, wakened at last to the mournful truth, took his place by his
daughter's side, and forgot that he was a cabinet minister.

CHAPTER VII.

"Away, my friends, why take such pains t